Mello Won't Sing Christmas Carols
by SomeStoryWriter
Summary: Christmas Eve at Wammy's House. Mello and Near get into a philosophical argument about whether Mello should sing Christmas carols or not. Things escalate and it's up to Mello to restore the peace. (Oneshot, no pairings intended)


"Mello, why don't you sing along?"

The response was a muffled groan. Mello was lying stretched out on his stomach on the couch, head on one side and feet on the other, with his face buried in the pillows.

"Come on, Mello," tried the teacher again.

"I can't sing, I'm part of the couch."

"Well in that case," said Matt as he sat down on Mello, pushing the air out of his lungs.

"Ouch! Matt!"

"Matt, get off him. Come on, Mello. A few Christmas carols won't hurt you. It might even cheer you up a bit."

"I'm not here. I'm currently in a state of non-existence."

"Not according to Descartes," sounded the voice of Near, who was playing a few meters away. "Cogito ergo sum. You think, therefore you are."

Mello lifted his face off the pillows and looked angrily at Near. _I can't let him humiliate me! Not again..._ "Well, according to Sartre, an individual consists of his choices and actions. And I hereby choose to be part of the couch for as long as it's convenient to me. Therefore, it would make just as much sense to ask that lamp over there to sing as it would be to ask me."

At this point the teacher decided to give up for the moment and he left to check on the other children. Matt was sitting on the couch, next to Mello's feet, still gaming. But Near didn't seem to be done yet.

"Your attitude gets undermined by the exact same theory you use to justify it. According to Sartre, you can indeed choose what you want to do, but you do carry full responsibility for your actions."

"Yes, I know, we had the exact same test on philosophy last week. And I probably did better… But anyway, who says that I'm not taking on responsibility?"

"Even if you are, there is still a problem. And that's _mauvaise foi_ : denying your own freedom by saying you don't have a choice. You have a choice to not be part of the couch and to join in the singing. Which means that in the end, you're in the wrong here."

Mello wished he could kill people with his eyes. But he found that this wasn't the case, since his burning glare seemed to have no effect on Near at all. He sat up straight, in his usual position, with his right leg pulled up. "Fine, then I'll move on to Foucault."

"Do tell me."

"They don't have the power to make me sing. What they're doing is trying to discipline me: they're using external forces to make me do what they want. But, according to Foucault, this isn't power. Power is making the other person want what you want them to want. So they could make me feel excluded and hope that I'll want to be part of the group, and therefor sing. Which is never going to happen."

"But even in Foucault's theory you carry responsibility for your actions. So you're still wrong."

"Why would I be wrong? According to Taylor, I am given a certain situation and I'm supposed to interpreted it my own way, and can be quite creative with that. I think being part of the couch is quite creative."

Meanwhile, some of the other kids had noticed that something interesting was going on, a battle between Number One and Number Two, so they had moved closer to listen.

"You're wrong because of utilism," said Near. "If you were to sing, you wouldn't be happy, but several other people would be. You have to choose what's best for as many people as possible."

Mello searched his mind for an answer to that. He couldn't lose this… All those kids were watching… "And who says I care about that?"

"What's your problem, Mello? Why are you running away from social contact?"

Mello scoffed. "Speak for yourself."

"But I'm not actively trying to be different."

 _Not different. Better_. Mello thought.

"You're trying to be an individual, but if we go back to Taylor, we learn that we can't be an individual unless in social context. So you might want to hang out with people more often, so you can be different."

"Well then, aren't you a special someone? You don't even need to be around people to be weird!"

"I'm not trying to be weird. But it could work for you. For example, if you were to hang around boys more often, it'd give you the chance to relatively, compared to them, be even more of a girl."

Mello froze for a moment. The other kids were laughing. There were laughing at _him_. Near had called him a girl. They would keep making fun of him for this. Near had humiliated him. Near had won again. And he wasn't just getting away with it either. He was being supported and cheered on by the other kids.

Mello could almost physically feel something snap inside him as he couldn't take it anymore. In a moment of blind rage, he snatched the gaming device out of Matt's hands and flung it at Near's head. It hit its target and Near fell over on the ground, clutching his head. The other kids let out a shocked cry and quickly took a few steps backward. The teacher came rushing towards them and bent over Near, who was trying to hide his tears.

"Mello! Go to Roger's office, now! Near, let me have a look, I need to know if we have to go to the hospital…"

Mello stormed out of the room. Matt wanted to follow him, but was stopped by the teacher.

Mello stopped in front of the door to Roger's office, punched the wall, immediately regretted doing so and sank down on the floor, his back against the wall, rubbing his painful hand.

It didn't take Roger too long to get to his office. He shot one look at Mello and unlocked the door. Mello silently followed him inside and sat down on the chair opposite the desk, like he was used to do by now.

"Mello… what are we going to do with you? Of you continue this, in a year or two, you'll be actually killing people! You have to learn that being angry at someone doesn't allow you to hurt them like that."

"But he…"

"No, Mello. No excuses. You, especially, can't afford to be like this. You're Number Two. What if you one day get to succeed L, instead of Near? How are you going to solve cases if you keep having violent outbursts?"

"Don't talk like you actually believe that! No one thinks that I could become L! But I will!"

"Then pull yourself together!" Roger sighed and sank down into his chair. "Look, it's Christmas. The time for peace and forgiveness. Why don't you try it out? Make a fresh start, let go of the grudge. Have some chocolate. Spend time with the other children. Don't be the only one to sulk his way through the Holidays."

"But Near…"

"Near might not even know what he did wrong. You know how he is. But if you want to show that you are mature, that you can handle things and take responsibility, then this is your chance. Be the first one to make amends."

"Can I be mad at him again in January?"

"Mello…"

"Fine!" He stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

Two hours had passed. It was still Christmas Eve. It was dark outside, and cold, very cold. Near was playing by the Christmas tree. He hadn't heard anything from Mello. He did know that Mello wasn't in the house right now, as he had seen him leaving, angry and with a determined look on his face. Would he spend the night somewhere else, as he had done before when he was upset? Near wondered if he was to blame. Yes, he might have crossed a line when he called Mello a girl. But the other kids did it as well, so wasn't it more like a joke? Why had Mello taken him so seriously? Near looked out of the window. A blonde figure was approaching. Yes, maybe he should make amends.

The first thing Mello did when he stepped into the living room was looking for chocolate. He was cold and wet from the snow and in dire need of something to cheer him up. But there wasn't any chocolate left. There were all sorts of candy, but no chocolate. Great! Then he saw Near. _Let's just get this over with._

"Near."

Before Near could look up, he had a package thrown in his lap. He could read pieces of old homework assignments on the wrapping. "Am I supposed to open it?"

"Yes, what else? Sit on it?"

"But it isn't Christmas Morning yet."

"Who cares? At least now there is no one else in the room." That was true. Most of the children were preparing for the Christmas dinner or playing somewhere else.

Mello sighed. "Please open it, okay? I had to walk all the way through the cold to get it…" Mello knew that most shops were closed on Christmas Eve, but he had found a small toy shop online that wasn't too far away from Wammy's House. The family running the shop lived above it, meaning they would likely be there this evening. Mello had found a phone number on the site and after a bit of begging, abusing the sympathy he received being an orphan, the owner allowed him to come, if he promised to not take longer than ten minutes in his shop, as he wanted to be with his family. Mello had rushed over and picked the first thing he saw. He managed to wrap it with a few pages from of his notebook. Whatever, the wrapping was the least important thing, after all.

Near opened the package and found a toy robot.

"Sorry I hit you, Near. You deserved it, but still."

"Thank you, Mello."

Mello looked longingly at the table where the chocolate had been. If it hadn't been for Near…

"I estimated that the chocolate would be running out soon, so I saved some for you." Near lifted a pillow nearby and took out a plate from underneath it. It was covered with a napkin. Near handed the plate to Mello, who took it and looked underneath the napkin.

"Chocolate…"

"You like chocolate, right? I'm sorry I called you a girl. It's just that the other children do it as well. I didn't think it would make you mad… Honestly, I just didn't want to lose the argument so I thought I'd use a different method…"

"Nah, forget about it." Mello took a bite from one of the chocolates. Yep, nothing better after walking through a blizzard. "Wait, who else calls me a girl?"

"That depends on what you'll do to them."

"Who is it? I will kill them!"

"Then I won't tell you."

"O, come on! You can't do that!"

"According to Sartre…"

"I don't care about Sartre! According to Kant's categorical imperative… You know what, never mind. Merry Christmas, Near."

"Merry Christmas, Mello."

They smiled at each other for a second before Mello turned around and left, taking a bite from his chocolate and quietely singing 'Jingle Bells'.

* * *

 **Merry Christmas, everyone!**


End file.
